


What matters...

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-29
Updated: 2008-07-29
Packaged: 2018-09-06 20:01:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8767114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Because even af time passes by, what really matters never changes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** It took me two days. You could say this is a test-run. So please, leave a review and tell me what you think. Any grammar mistakes I might have, feel free to point them out. I'm latin american, so my english might hold some mistakes.

  
Author's notes: I have been writting fanfiction for over 5 years, but I am still trying to get better. Please let me know what you think. Comments are appreciated.  


* * *

After the all is said and done; Sam can’t remember much

After the all is said and done; Sam can’t remember much.

He vaguely recalls sitting lost surrounded by his brother’s flesh and blood as he cried. Eyes wide open, staring at the face of the one person he loves ( _loved_ ) most in the world. 

Bobby came, offering support, but that did not matter.

The Medics came, but again, it didn’t matter.

Dean was ripped from his arms, but that action held no meaning. He was long gone; Sam knew as much.

_“No deals”_ Bobby had said. And Sam only nodded. Knowing that if Dean was to be brought back that way; it would only lead to another deal. To another quest that held no answer to his prayers.

_“I’m sorry”_ came the voices of the people he knew. Empty words that had no importance for him. 

No more friends for him. Never friends. His only friend had died.

_“Don’t do anything stupid”_ He kept quite. There was nothing he could do. All the research he had done had been fruitless. So no matter how much he wanted to do something; there wasn’t a real solution.

He was trapped in a void. There was no relief, no happiness, no joy...

No music, no black coffee, no two queens, no nothing...

Dean was gone.

And Sam left with him.

This was a twisted version of himself. That he could reckon. Devoid of emotion. Varely holding himself. Only the memory of the person that had sacrificed himself for him was what kept him going. 

He would not spit on that sacrifice.

Dean was his humanity; his love and respect for life. He was the only thing that kept him from falling from the edge.

Now Dean was gone. And so; Sam lost the last thread that made him human.

He lived to hunt. Lived for the war; for the blood of his brother.

Lilith was his goal. The only creature he would without any doubt rip apart with pleasure. He had never felt anything like this. There was no emotion. But hate... Hatred; Rage; Betrayal... that he could understand.

Justice...

Vengeance...

And so HIS war began. His army born out of blood and tears.

\---

Years passed. Sam did not know how long nor did he care. People came and went; hunts were easy enough.

Rest for the damned. That was something he could deliver. Something that made him a little more useful.

Bobby was there. Ellen as well. Even Missouri. He knew they were worried about him. But that was not of his concern.

His army wanted blood. And so; he always made sure to guide them in the Winchester fashion.

_“Kill the evil_

_Protect the Innocent_

_We do this for the ones we love_

_We do this for those who died fighting”_

Those were his words. This was no longer the family business. This had grown, it had become something much more big.

People came everyday. He welcomed them; trained them; taught them. Little by little the word spread.

There’s a safe heaven.

There’s a place were you can be protected by the monsters of the night.

There’s someone who cares.

**HE** knows... **HE** cares...

But those who go seeking for help; are surprised by the image of a young man.

A boy actually, someone that has seen far too much in his short life.

They ask for protection. They ask for guidance.

He smiles coldly, huffs and looks over his shoulder.

_“There are beds, and there are teachers. This is a war. Once you enter, you will never be able to go”_

He doesn’t sweat talk. He doesn’t offer comfort.

He is cold and rough. He is silent. He is harsh when he speaks.

But everyone understands.

Those who cross that door, become soldiers. Willing members of the army he has created. Willing pawns in the chess that life has become for them.

They understand.

They accept.

They become family...

_“Would you be proud?”_ He asks to himself sometimes. His eyes watched sadly the dawn as he sits in the hood of his brother’s girl.

She would never be his. She belongs to Dean. 

But he takes care of her, just like he would have liked it.

Sometimes the children would try to wake up early to be with him. 

He is amazed at this. 

Why would anyone want to be with him?

With the shell of the person he had become?

A little girl turns around and smiles at him.

_“It’s beautiful! Now I know why big brother likes to wake up early!”_

Her name is Jesse. She’s an orphan.

She doesn’t understand why he cries after those words...

\---

Six years pass by. He can’t say he really cares. 

Many hunters had died; some under his care; others alone...

Jo Harvelle was one of them.

He stared at Ellen’s weeping form and offered no comfort. Only silent company. They understand each other.

Every hunter; every warrior understands. They are all tied by sadness and grief. No one enters this life willingly. No one wants praise or glory. 

This is war. 

He meets Joshua Anderson four years after Dean’s death. 

A year later; they become lovers.

Joshua has a light in him that reminds him of Dean. Often he wonders if this makes him a twisted fuck.... He doesn’t really care.

Josh is the kind of person you would want when cornered, when you are about to die. His hair is black as night; a little bit longer than Dean’s. His eyes have the same color of Dean’s. And his smile is often the only thing that keeps Sam going.

On Dean’s birthday; six years after his death; Sam finds a way to bring him back.

He looks concentrated and more dettached afterwards.

The other hunters respect his decision; and there are a few that approve.

He needs Dean’s remains. It’s lucky that he never buried Dean’s ashes. He has them on safe keep in the Safe heaven he has created.

This Church is more like a Citadel. It was build in the center of a Devil’s trap. Nothing gets in; and no one goes out unless it is for hunting.

Sam dissapears for three days.

When he returns; he carries a sleeping Dean in the passenger of the Impala.

Bobby rambles and rages; fearing the worst.

_“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?”_ he screams. 

Sam smiles. For the first time; he truly smiles.

_“I did what I had to. He is here; and none of us is going to hell”_ he says. He is certain the made the right choice.

He sits beside Dean for the longest time; just waiting for him to wake up.

Joshua brings coffee and pats him on the shoulder.

_“I hope you are happy”_ he says. There is no spat in his words. He is truly happy for Sam. _“I know you’ll need to be together more time from now. I understand”_ With that, he kisses him long and hard and deep. 

Joshua never returns to that room. 

He understands; and hopes Sam is able to become the man he once was. The man he hopes to meet.

\---

Dean feels like he has run far to many miles. His body aches; his fingers are heavy to move. His throat is dry; and he has the ridiculous need to curl into a ball and never wake up.

After a few moments; minutes or hours do not matter; his other senses start to return. He can smell leather; gun powder; coffee and something else that is so familiar that he doesn’t understand why it makes him want to cry.

Next; came the memories. Childhood; his teenage years; his adulthood...

And with that comes the memories of his family, his friends, the people he respected, his fears, his love, his death...

_“Sammy...”_ he thinks.

His eyes open slowly; and he is thankful there is no light to burn his vision. He tries to move, but he knows he shouldn’t. He was suppossed to be in hell. He was suppossed to be dead...

He knew he had died. His last memory being Sam’s screams and the terrible pain of himself being teared apart.

There is the need to scream. The need to demand answers to the questions in his distorted memories.

But then he recognizes the smell... 

Sam...

Sammy....

He groans, pushing himself into the waking world.

His eyes flutter open; and there is only a glimpse of light. The shine of the moon coming from a window to the far end of the room.

He barely discerns the shape of a man sitting in a chair near him. Watching him.

“S-Sa...” he crooks; unable to finish the name. His throat feels like he had been breathing fire for years.

He thinks that perhaps he has.

“Shhh...” soothes a voice. Familiar but at the same time deeper. Almost rough. Like this person had forgotten what it was like to be gentle. “Rest now; there’s time...” he says. A hand comes down to caress his face and neck.

Dean closes his eyes and smiles to himself.

“Bitch...” he calls affectionally; unable to go back to asleep without calling Sam.

Sam’s breath hitch. And for a few seconds it’s like he doesn’t know how to breath.

“Jerk...” he calls back; long after Dean falls asleep.

\---

The next time Dean wakes up, he can hear the sound of children laughter. Ever so slowly, he opens his eyes; trying to adjust to the light coming from the window.

The room; for the most part looks barren. Completely impersonal. No pictures, no frames, no nothing...

But what drags his attention, is the sleeping form on the chair near him.

He takes his time, memorizing the face of the man.

It’s Sam.

Sammy, looking far more older than he had expected. His skin was a little gray, and there was a scar on his left cheek. He looked far more like John Wichester than he could have ever imagined.

It takes sometime, but he manages to sit up. The bed creaks; and he almost falls off in surprise when Sam shots up from his chair looking around the room; one hand around the knife he gave him so long ago.

“Dean?” he calls after a few seconds. He chuckles and puts the knife away; back to his jacket. “You scared the crap out of me” he states. 

A sense of deja-vu kicks both of them. It feels like going backwards and onwards at the same time. Like they are back to that first night at Standford so long ago. But the changes are there; and this leaves them both confused.

Sam seems unsure of what to do; at least for a moment. But then he moves and grabs a glass of water handing it down to Dean.

“You’ll need some time to readjust” he says. 

Dean takes the water; and feels like this is heaven and hell at the same time. He is back... But at what cost?

He drinks the water slowly, his hands trembling a little. He feels tired; but energized. He has the ridiculous urge to jump on the bed and start singing. He was free, but the idea of what Sam might have done to bring him back...

The youngest brother (but now probably the oldest as well) takes the glass once Dean finishes. For a few moments they stay quite. Sam sitting at the edge of the bed, simply contenting himself with watching his long lost brother.

“What did you do?” Dean demands, perhaps a little harsher than intended, but that’s reasonable.

“I brought you back” Sam replies simply, shrugging a little. “I made no deal. I’m not going to lose my soul, nor am I going to hell” he adds knowing that’s the reason for Dean’s reaction.

After that; Dean’s let himself relax. There are so many things he wants to asks. But he has no strength yet.

Sam smiles softly and reaches for his neck; tacking of the amulet that belongs to Dean. He returns it to it’s rightfull place, in Dean’s neck. Next, he takes of the ring that belongs to his brother, and reaches for Dean’s hand.

“I’ve waited for so long... to be able to return this to you...” he says in a shacky voice. His eyes water, and finally tears run freely.

He all but glomps his brother. Clinging to him as if afraid that he might lose him again. His arms snacking around Dean’s shoulders; right hand lost in his brother’s hair.

Sam cries, and Dean does what he has always done. He holds him and lets his own tears run free.

The brothers finally reach home.

\---

It takes a while; but slowly Dean builds the strength necessary to move on his own accord. He feels a little strange in his own skin. But he doesn’t complain. Well... maybe a little.

When he meets the others; he is surprised by the amount of tears of joy he sees. Bobby hugs him like he never had before. Tears run free as the old man curses and grumbles and laughs.

Missouri, threathens him with her spoon if he ever makes such a harsh and foolish decision ever again. But still; she smiles and hugs him and offers him an applepie.

Ellen Harvelle; she looks grim and far older than he remembers her. She hugs him and wishes him the happiness of the world.

He asks for Jo; but he only gets a sad smile and a pat on the shoulder.

When he meets the orphans; Dean feels like he was suddenly thrown into neverland. Sam; is apparently Peter Pan. The kids love him; calling him ‘ **big brother’** ; and clinging to his body. Dean feels satisfaction at knowing that Sam has been able to become a hope for more than just one person.

But he loves more the fact that these children see Dean in wonder. They sit around him as he tells stories from when he and Sam were younger. Their eyes shine in wonder. And often times he has heard the children call him an Angel.

Sammy’s angel.

“Big brother was always lost... But now he found you. So everything is fine again” A little girl once tells him. And he knows how right she is; he can feel it in his bones.

The other hunters merely nod in his direction. Some of them act wearily; like they are expectig for Dean to jump on them. He understands this behaviour, he would have probably done the same.

Sam smiles; laughs; and grins almost all the time. He is still the fierce leader to this people. That Dean understands and makes him proud. 

What bothers him... It’s the guy named Joshua...

It’s not like he dislikes him. It’s more like... he can’t stand the way he touches; talks and simply watches Sam...

One afternoon; Bobby has to drags him away from his brother to explain him.

“Things changed Dean... And when you died; Joshua was the one that picked your brother’s pieces... They are lovers...” the old man explains; his hands fumbling clearly showing the discomfort of the discussion.

“What?” Not the smartest thing to say... But what could he possibly say to that? He’s not disgusted; not at all. He has seen far to many things in his life (and death) to not understand his brother’s needs.

But this...

This is overwhelming. And for the first time since he is back; Dean realizes he doesn’t know his brother. He doesn’t know the man Sam has become...

So he watches, he learns, he re-discovers.

There are things that show more than others.

The way Sam grows quite; deep in thought. That’s usual; but now there’s an edge to it. Like he is planning things far beyond his reach.

The way he would sit with the children and help them in their lessons. The way he becomes a teacher and father figure to these new hunters.

How he sits with other hunters; pin pointing mistakes and flaws in their huntings. Making them sharper, better.

Soon, he realizes that Sam Winchester is more than just a hope and a hero. He’s become a legend, a teacher and a master; a hunter that knows far too much at the age of thirty. A man that can deal with demons with such ease that leaves bluffed even the most experienced.

And Dean...

Dean doesn’t know if he belongs in this world Sam has created.

Sam doesn’t hunt. At least not activately. He prepares, researches, gives advice and shelter. He is more like an scholar.

And this guy... Joshua, he is probably the only other person for who Sam smiles and relaxes with.

He knows he is jealous; that he is lost. But he also knows that he won’t leave. Not unless he leaves with Sammy at his side.

But it’s not until he watches Sam fuck Josh that he realizes how deep the changes are... In both of them.

His knuckles turn white with the pressure of his feelings. He bits his lower lip as he sees Sam kiss this other man. He can feel his eyes sting as Sam treats Joshua like he is the most precious possesion he ever had. The way he carefully lays him on the bed; how his mouth trails kisses along his chest; how his hands massage the other man’s neck. How he prepares him with tongue and teeth; how he slids in...

He leaves, unable to see the rest. Knowing that he is more fucked up than he could ever imagine. He wonders if hell did this to him; but he knows deep down that this was something he had always been aiming to. Something that was always there but that he never acknowledged... Until now...

The next day; he’s on edge. The image of his naked brother fucking that guy burns in his Mind’s eye.

Sam, on the other hand, knows something’s up with Dean. But he can’t really say what. So he just sits in silence beside him. The night before, had been his last time with Joshua. Because now that Dean’s back; he knows he would not be able to hold them both.

He chooses to lose a lover and gain a friend. He would never do anything that might hurt Dean, and he knows that his relationship with Joshua had an unsettling weight on Dean’s mind.

“A penny for your thoughts...” he calls; smiling a tired smiled at Dean. 

Dean doesn’t answer. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t know where he stands, not anymore at least.

“Even if I’m a psychic wonder, I’m not a mind reader.... Tell me what’s wrong Dean” he pleads softly.

Neither of the boys were prepared for Dean’s reaction.

The oldest pushes Sam unto the floor; his hands holding Sam’s shoulders down. He is straddling Sam, and for a moment he looks just as confused and surprised as Sammy is.

His hands are shacking; and he doesn’t know what to to. 

His mind shuts off; and his body; **his needs** take over.

Sam doesn’t even have the time to blink; and the next thing he knows is that Dean’s mouth is on his own.

All teeth and tongue; panting breaths; iron grips and pain-pleasure .

And Sam has never been happier.

The walls come crashing down. And the passion; the need takes over. Finally; they are home. Finally; they are complete.

It’s messy; hard and fast. But this was them. This was the Winchester way. 

And they wouldn’t have it any other way.

So yes, time passes by. People change; things and ways change.

But what is really important; what the heart holds dear... That never changes...


End file.
